


Ada

by yeaka



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: M/M, Mild Daddy Kink, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-07
Updated: 2020-12-07
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:33:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 861
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27928336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: Poor Harry.
Relationships: Harry Kim/Tom Paris
Comments: 10
Kudos: 22





	Ada

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own Star Trek or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

No matter how many different mustaches he tries, the ‘villain’ still looks like Chakotay, at least on the 2D screen of his PADD. Hopefully, he’ll get the kinks worked out in 3D, and when the finished masterpiece holonovel spreads like wildfire through the crew, no one will figure out who Tom based the characters on. At least the heroine doesn’t look like Harry in drag anymore. The hero’s a dashing young man with a pale complexion and blond-brown hair, and maybe he looks _a little_ like Tom, but not enough to be obvious. The scenery looks nothing like Voyager, because as much as he pays his dues to the past and the people he loves, he’s capable of wholly unique creations. Even the doctor will have to admit his genius on this one. 

He lets the computer cycle to a good old-fashioned handlebar mustache that covers most of not-Chakotay’s face, then tries curling the ends when that doesn’t work, and then someone’s coming over in his peripherals, so he drops his hand over the evidence. Harry offers him an obviously forced smile and rounds on the chair across from him. 

One palm glued to the PADD and the other on the fork tangled up in his not-really-spaghetti, Tom greets, “Hey, Harry.”

Harry mumbles, “Hey...” and pauses for a good moment before quietly finishing, “ _Daddy_.” Then his eyes avert at the speed of light. He drops into his seat like a sack of tritanium cylinders and shrinks in on himself like there’s any possible way for him to escape Tom’s notice after what he just did. 

Unfortunately, Tom doesn’t get to go into it right away, because he was biting a chunk of almost-noodles off his fork, and now he’s choking on it. It’s completely Harry’s fault, and he doesn’t even have the decency to look guilty. He just sits there, pushing Neelix’s latest creation around his plate, while Tom gags and downs thankfully-actually-water. 

Even then, it takes a good moment for Tom to regain his voice enough to rasp, “Say that again.”

Harry’s eyes close, lips pursing. He looks so _done_ with everything, even though he’s the one that started it. He tightly answers, “You heard me.”

Tom definitely did. He just wants to hear it again, so he can be ready this time, and properly commit it to memory. He can feel his cheeks dimpling with a grin and just grins harder, which only makes Harry’s nose wrinkle. He clearly doesn’t share Tom’s immense amusement. Tom asks anyway, “What bet did you lose? And did B’Elanna get anything else for winning?”  
Looking genuinely surprised, Harry counters, “How’d you know?”

“No offense, Harry, but you didn’t exactly make it sound natural. And who else would torture you this way? I can’t imagine Tuvok daring you to stir me up.”

“Stir you up?”

Tom tilts his head and leans across their tiny table, admitting, “Gotta say, it’s not something I thought I’d be into, but when it’s _you_ saying it...”

Harry groans. “Ugh, it’s so embarrassing. I told her it sounded stupid—”

“Nah. I kinda like it.” If looks could kill, Tom would be halfway to sickbay. But Harry looks so _cute_ when he’s mad, so it’s worth it. “Say it again.” 

“Tom!” It’s hard to tell whether Harry’s more horrified or scandalized. “ _No._ ”

“C’mon, baby...” Tom’s hand crawls across the table, revealing the side of basically-Chakotay’s now pencil-thin mustache. He reaches the back of Harry’s hand and gently rubs his thumb over Harry’s knuckles, drawing shallow circles on Harry’s soft skin, catching Harry in his fire-hot gaze and making it _very_ clear what he’s thinking. It’s adorable how quickly Harry’s cheeks turn red.

He hesitates for a tellingly long second before he jerks his hand away and hisses, “We’re in the messhall!”

All the tables immediately around them are empty, though people are still coming and going quite a bit between the windows and the kitchen—the green-purple nebula outside is stunning, and Neelix’s supposedly-spaghetti is equally as eye catching—it keeps changing colours and belching out small geysers of sprinkles. 

As fascinating as the scenery is, Tom’s only got eyes for Harry’s eyes, big and brown and beautiful. Tom purrs like they’re alone in his quarters, “As if everyone doesn’t already know what a good boy you are for your _daddy_.”

Harry splutters. Tom’s foot creeps forward until the tip of his boot is pressed against Harry’s ankle, and then he’s drawing it up Harry’s leg, because teasing Harry is always the best part of his day. 

Harry still hasn’t recovered by the time B’Elanna’s approaching them a minute later, tray of currently-purple ‘noodles’ in hand. “Boys,” she greets, voice even but lips grinning. “Anything interesting happen today?”

Harry opens his mouth, probably to tell her she knows damn well what happened, but Tom’s already answering, “We’re exploring Harry’s new fetish.”

Harry’s never looked so betrayed. B’Elanna laughs wickedly as she puts down her tray, grabbing a seat to join in. 

“First, I want to know why you’ve got a picture of Chakotay with furry targ tusks on his face, and then I want to hear _all_ about this fetish...”


End file.
